


flashback

by envysparkler



Series: Pavor [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Damian has feelings and doesn't know what to do with them, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Trapped, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27697754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/envysparkler/pseuds/envysparkler
Summary: Red Hood is trapped under a collapsed building.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Series: Pavor [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932523
Comments: 75
Kudos: 910





	flashback

**Author's Note:**

> my brain: you're going to write another 'Jason is trapped under rubble' fic.
> 
> me: okay.
> 
> my brain: also you're going to make half of it from Damian's pov.
> 
> me: why???
> 
> my brain: idk, seems fun.

“Hood is late,” Damian said, glaring at the warehouse across the street. An Arkham breakout was always all hands on deck, and because Crane had the temerity to hide in Crime Alley, they needed to get permission from Hood to pursue him, lest they break the unspoken agreement that kept Hood as more vigilante than crime lord.

And, of course, the wayward black sheep of the family had no sense of time management – they’d been waiting on this rooftop for a full ten minutes because Hood had insisted they weren’t allowed to go inside until he showed up.

The warehouse was quiet. Personally, Damian was hoping that Crane showed up and made for the East End or the Bowery, or anywhere Damian would get the chance to kick him in the face without running the risk of pissing off Hood or disappointing Father.

“Hold position,” Batman growled. Nightwing gave a thumbs up from the roof on the other side of the warehouse, and Red Robin was presumably in position on the seaward side. “Oracle, patch us through to Hood’s comm.”

“I’m not a telephone operator,” Oracle’s voice filtered through their comm, “And Hood has made it explicitly clear that if I connect you to him without permission, he’ll take his comm out entirely.”

Batman tensed, but before he could come up with a rejoinder, the warehouse shuddered and the windows exploded in a large rush of red-and-orange flames. It was quickly joined by screams as the thugs fled the building like ants spilling out of an overturned anthill.

“Clearly Hood started without us,” Damian snapped over the crackle of fire and the distant wail of sirens. The building creaked, held silent and still for a long, stretching moment, and collapsed, smothering the flames in a sudden rush.

Nightwing cursed. “Oracle,” Batman growled, “Get me Hood. _Now_.”

This time, Oracle didn’t prevaricate.

Their line _click_ ed as she added Hood to their comm and Damian heard his father take a deep breath, presumably ready to deliver the lecture – Hood hadn’t waited for them despite agreeing to a joint operation, he’d blown up the warehouse and killed an indeterminate number of people, and Crane and his concoctions could be anywhere.

A harsh, rattling cough came through the comms.

“Hood?” Nightwing asked tentatively, “Hood, check in.”

Another cough. A low, pained groan.

“Hood,” Batman said tersely, hovering at the edge of the rooftop, “Where are you?”

Harsh, high-pitched wheezes. “No, no, _no_ ,” Hood said, his breaths getting faster and higher. Something in the sound chilled Damian to the bone. “ _No_!”

A clatter and a pained grunt.

And then Hood _screamed_.

Batman had grappled down to the warehouse rubble before Damian even realized that he’d moved – he managed to hastily follow, his heart pounding, and caught up to Batman right as Red Robin intercepted their path.

“Hood!” Nightwing shouted, accompanied by the sound of shifting rubble, “Hood, where are you?”

“No, not again,” Hood whimpered, rattling thuds in the background, “Not again, _please_ –”

“No,” Red Robin said lowly, blocking Batman from going any further, “You’re compromised. You can’t go in there.”

“He’s my _son_ ,” Batman snarled, and ordinarily that statement would’ve struck something in Damian’s heart, but –

“No,” Hood sobbed, “No, please, I can’t do this again, _please_ – let me out! _Let me out_.”

“Hood, goddammit, where are you? O, can he hear us?”

“Nothing wrong with his receiver. I’m activating his tracker now.”

“We’re on it,” Red Robin said tersely, “But you’re only going to be a hindrance right now.”

Batman actually growled at that, drawing up so that he was looming over Red Robin, and to Damian’s shock, the Pretender didn’t even flinch.

“Turn off your comm,” Red Robin said flatly, “Turn off your comm right now and you can help.”

“Help!” Banging sounds, like fists hitting metal. “Somebody, please, _help_!” Batman staggered, and Red Robin’s eyes narrowed.

“Robin,” he nodded to Damian, “Make sure he doesn’t follow.” He turned and headed straight for the far corner of the rubble, presumably tracking the directions Oracle was sending. Batman moved as if to follow him, and Damian grabbed his hand to force him to a halt.

“ _Help_!” Hood shouted, voice hoarse, “Help, I can’t – I can’t breathe – _please_ –”

“We need to find Crane,” Damian reminded him, but his heart was squeezing painfully. Batman didn’t move, and Damian tugged harder to no response.

“ _Please_ ,” something in Hood’s voice cracked, and any last vestiges of the fearsome crime lord broke with it, “Please, I can’t do this again –” more banging, and a sickening _crunch_ – “Get me out of here, please, somebody, _please_ –”

“I’m coming, Little Wing,” Nightwing said hoarsely, “I’m –” he dissolved into coughs and it took five seconds for him to speak up again, his voice muffled, “Fear toxin’s seeping through the rubble. Rebreathers on.”

There was a stretching pause when the obvious conclusion registered in everyone’s head.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Red Robin cursed, and began digging through the rubble more frantically. Batman made a low sound, too quiet to be picked up by the comms, but Damian felt it impact him like a dagger sliding between his ribs.

“Hood, if you can hear us, we’re coming to you,” Nightwing murmured quietly.

“No,” Hood said, “No, please, _stop burying me_ –”

Batman took a full step forward and Damian had to grab his cape and dig in his heels to stop him. “Batman, stop,” Damian said quietly, “Nightwing and Red Robin will get him out, and if they need our assistance, they will let us know.”

Batman didn’t act like he heard him.

“Red, that corner,” Nightwing started suddenly.

“I see it –”

“Please,” Hood’s movements were getting slower and quieter, “ _Please_. B, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please get me out of here, _please_ –”

“Don’t,” Damian whispered harshly, holding tighter, “Father, don’t –”

“ _Dad, please_.”

Batman tore himself out of Damian’s grip with a fury that nearly sent him to the ground – Damian only managed to catch his balance in time to see Batman disappearing into the smoke.

“Batman’s heading your way, Nightwing, Red Robin,” Damian spat out tersely – the Pretender didn’t get to give him orders, but he’d recognized the utility of keeping Batman away, and he’d failed.

“We’ve almost got him,” Nightwing murmured, accompanied by the sound of metal screeching, “Hood, we’re coming, we’re almost there.”

“Please,” soft, hitched, and broken, “I can’t – no, please, _I’m sorry_ –”

“That is a tight fit,” Red Robin said slowly.

Damian backed away from the smoldering rubble, curling his hands into fists. He could track down the missing criminals, and Crane himself. They couldn’t have gotten far.

The whine of metal interspersed with broken pleas in his comms as Damian turned his attention to the alleyways – there, a patch of shadow unaligned from the rest, something that could be a burlap sack in the right light.

“Hood,” Nightwing exhaled after a particularly loud screech.

“Jason,” Batman said, gentler than Damian ever thought his growl could go, “Jay, I’m here.”

“I can’t – can’t do it again – no more, please – I’m sorry – I _can’t_ –”

“Shh. It’s okay, Jason, we have you, it’s okay.”

“Don’t – don’t make me go back –”

“ _Never_.” The snarl sent shivers down Damian’s spine.

That _was_ a burlap sack. Damian stuck to the shadows, carefully circling, and attacked – it took mere moments to snap a kick to Crane’s hand, letting the vials clatter out of his hand, and another to his head, sending him flailing to the ground.

Damian stomped on his head again for good measure, and drew his sword.

“Shh, Jay-lad, it’s okay, I have you, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry – please don’t – _please_ –”

Damian kept his sword sharp enough that it could cut with the faintest touch. A slightly greater pressure, and it would slice straight through the windpipe and sever the spine.

One push, and this complete waste of human life would be dead.

Damian raised his head at the prickle on the back of his neck, and saw Red Robin leaning against the opposite wall, staring at him. Damian knew all the signs for an opponent readying for an attack, and Red Robin showed none of them. If Damian moved to slit Crane’s throat, the Pretender would not stop him.

Sobs echoed through the comm line, even as the sounds of shifting rubble faded away.

Damian curled his lips into a snarl.

He was Damian al Ghul Wayne, heir to the Bat, heir to the Demon’s Head, trained by the League of Assassins and the World’s Greatest Detective. No one would ever know that he killed Crane, aside from the Pretender – and Damian kept a stash of exorbitantly expensive coffee beans for whenever he needed to buy Drake’s silence.

No one except Batman.

“I’m here, Jason, I’m here.”

“Don’t go. _Please don’t go_.”

“I’m not leaving you, Jay, I promise.”

Damian stepped off of Crane and withdrew his sword.

Another time. Right now, Batman’s undivided attention was needed elsewhere.

* * *

Jason woke up to a pleasant warmth, a strange heat curling around him and muting the rest of the world.

It filtered back in pieces, small, manageable chunks as he stayed wrapped in the feeling of _warm-safe-home_ – his throat felt like it’d been scraped with sandpaper, his hands throbbed dully, his body ached, and his chest was tight with remembered hyperventilation.

_Too small. Too tight. Barriers in all directions, stuck and trapped and he could almost taste the mud on his tongue –_

Jason sucked in a sharp inhale and let his eyes flutter open.

Bright light. White. Not stuck or trapped, this was warm and soft and a heartbeat humming against his cheek and lips pressed to his hairline. Fingers rubbing soft circles into his shoulder.

One part of his mind was telling him that that was unusual. Abnormal. A trick, a trap, something was wrong and he needed to figure out what.

The other part of his mind could smell the body wash they kept in the Cave, could hear the soft whispering of the bats, could feel the familiar calluses on the broad hand cradling his head.

Jason must’ve shifted, or moved, or something, because Bruce’s low rumble reverberated against his cheek, “Jay?”

He slowly unpeeled his face from the warmth and tilted his head until he could just barely see blue eyes peering down at him. “Mhm?” he managed.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked softly. The fingers continued tracing slow, gentle designs.

_Like hell_ , Jason wanted to respond, except that brought up memories of dying in fire and being reborn in fire and clawing out of –

“What happened?” he asked weakly.

Something dark crossed over Bruce’s face. “Fear toxin,” he replied.

That explained his sore throat, at the very least. Jason swallowed and tried to edge himself up – Bruce obligingly shifted until Jason was half-slumped on his chest, his head raised.

His fingers were covered in bandages. Five of them were wrapped in splints.

_Desperate, clawing, ignoring the bursts of pain and fingernails tearing out and blood running down his fingers because he needed to get out, he had to get out,_ get out –

Jason swallowed again and winced as the motion caught against his dry throat. “Here,” Bruce murmured, reaching across Jason to retrieve a cup of water from the bedside table. Jason allowed himself to be manhandled – like a _child_ – the cup lifted so he could take small sips to ease the rawness.

They were in the Cave. One of the chairs by the bed was occupied, a spiky head of black hair and knees curled up and a knife flitting through careful, practiced motions – it paused, just for a second, as Damian twisted to scowl at Jason, before he turned his back on them and resumed twirling his knife.

Jason squinted at him. There was something…off about that picture. There was something off about this whole picture. He…he didn’t live in the Manor, Batman detested working with him, they should’ve been furious after Jason had snuck into the warehouse early to scope out the operation and accidentally triggered an explosion and –

He’d screamed for Bruce, begged for him, sobbed for his father to come and save him –

And he _had_.

Jason ignored the part of his mind that was leaking paranoia and burrowed further into his dad’s warm embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> me: this whole fic was just an excuse to make Jason cry.
> 
> my brain: half your fics are just excuses to make Jason cry.


End file.
